


You Make Me See How Much I Have

by paradis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Kid!Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradis/pseuds/paradis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re lucky you got here now,” he says, “Ten minutes – maybe you could get your –” there’s a crash before he can say <i>get your daughter,</i> and Stiles resists the urge to either slap his hand against his face, or slap <i>Derek</i>, because no one ever understands how difficult it is to have a kid in the store by themselves unless they’re also parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Me See How Much I Have

**Author's Note:**

> a million thanks to my beta MirajaneScarlet who spent _days_ editing this fic, because it was a total mess before she got her hands on it. 
> 
> apologies because this fic never got around to the sexy times that I planned originally for it. 
> 
> title is taken from Tim McGraw's 'My Best Friend.' 
> 
> Skip to the end notes for Minor Character Death, even though it starts off right at the beginning, if you're tentative.

The day Erica dies, she kisses Stiles and tells him she loves him, and then she reaches out and plucks Elizabeth out of his arms and kisses her too. She looks at Stiles with wide eyes and says, “I don’t want to go.” Stiles grins at her and tells her that he knows, he loves her too. But she has to go, Stiles knows. It’s her important monthly business trip and there’ll be trouble if she misses it – that’s what she always tells him. Stiles gives her another kiss and takes Elizabeth back out of her arms. 

“Tell mommy bye-bye,” he says, waving Elizabeth’s tiny little palm out towards Erica. 

Erica glances at her one more time, leans over and kisses the top of her head, and picks up her bag. “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” 

“Love you,” Stiles replies, and kisses her quick once on the lips.

It’s a normal day. There’s nothing wrong with the day – it’s just like every other time she’s left for the night. Stiles tells her he loves her, and she leaves, peeling out of the driveway like it’s done something to personally offend her, disappearing down the road. Stiles can’t find anything wrong with the day whenever he looks back on it. 

Until his dad pulls up in his cruiser later that night, the lights flashing, blinding bright through the curtains hanging in the windows. Stiles looks down at Elizabeth, before picking her up and crossing the living room to the door. His dad is standing there with a somber look on his face and wringing his hands together. “What’s wrong?” Stiles asks him, “Your lights are flashing, shouldn’t you be heading to the scene?”

“Stiles,” the Sheriff chokes, “Stiles – you _are_ the emergency.” 

Stiles still doesn’t get it. He lifts Elizabeth up so she’s in a tighter grip, and blinks at his dad. “What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong here.”

“Stiles,” the Sheriff scrubs at his face with his hand, and when he looks up, tears are shining in his eyes. “Stiles, Erica was found – she was found dead.” 

There’s complete silence between them for an entire minute, Stiles blinking at his father like he can’t register what he’s just said. His heart skips a beat before he recovers, and he can’t stop his hands from trembling, shaking Elizabeth just a little bit. “She – what?” he has to hear it one more time, he tells himself. It won’t be true unless his dad tells him again.

“It was some kind of animal attack,” the Sheriff says, clearing his throat, reaching up and brushing at his eyes, “A mountain lion.”

“Erica was _mauled?_ ” he asks him, horrified. 

The Sheriff watches as Stiles’ hands start shaking full on, and reaches out and takes Elizabeth from his arms. Stiles sinks against the house, just staring blankly at the red and blue flashing lights for a moment, transfixed. “My wife was mauled,” he repeats to himself. 

“Stiles,” his dad whispers, “I’m so sorry.” 

Stiles can’t say anything. 

==

When Stiles finds himself suddenly a single father to an infant child and a grieving widower, he does the only thing he can think of: he moves back in with his father. 

That was two years ago now, and he’s still living with his dad. He sold his and Erica’s house. He tried to go back one time, six months after laying her in the ground, and found himself breathing fast, heart pounding in his ears, as he looked around at all the decorations _Erica_ chose. At the painted walls that _Erica_ picked the color of, and the pictures that _Erica_ chose to hang up around the house. He couldn’t do it, so he packed up the rest of his things, hired a realty company, and went back to his dad’s. 

Elizabeth loves it anyway; she loves her grandfather almost as much as she loves Stiles, and she loves having them both there at night to tuck her in. Sometimes Stiles thinks about leaving, about moving out and moving far away from Beacon Hills, from the reminders of Erica at every turn – her favorite restaurant, the only grocery store she ever insisted was worthy enough to shop at, the movie theater where Stiles took her on their first date – and never coming back. But then he thinks about his dad and how much of a help he is, and he knows he couldn’t live without him. He couldn’t force Elizabeth to live without him. 

Stiles’ routine for a day is pretty simple: wake up, wake Elizabeth up, get them both dressed and feed her breakfast, before heading into the office, where he does his work steadily until seven that night. It’s nice, to have a job with hours so set in stone, and being a paralegal is something that Stiles truly enjoys. He gets to go in, and come home on time to be Elizabeth. He gets weekends off to spend with his daughter and he gets holidays off with a nice little vacation, too. 

“Elizabeth,” he whispers, and pulls her out of the bed. She’s almost three years old and sometimes Stiles can’t believe it. He thinks about how Erica missed her saying her first word, missed her crawling for the first time, taking her first steps, doing somersaults for the first time, and standing up and saying, “Look, daddy, _look,_ ” in her demanding toddler’s voice. 

She has Erica’s blonde hair and Stiles and his mother’s huge, golden-brown eyes, and it’s possibly the most gorgeous combination Stiles has ever seen on a child. She has a lot of Erica’s personality, too. Demanding, yet sweet, strong and resilient. But she also gets Stiles’ hyperactive personality, too, and it makes for a beautiful, sometimes exhausting combination of her parents. 

“Come on, pumpkin, time to wake up,” Stiles whispers against her ear. He loves these moments, in the morning, when Elizabeth snuggles against him as he carries her down the steps to the kitchen table. She nuzzles her nose into Stiles’ neck, and murmurs something nonsensical. Stiles smiles softly. 

When he reaches the kitchen, his father is already sitting there reading the newspaper. Stiles deposits Elizabeth into his lap, and Elizabeth grumbles, half-awake. “Hey, princess,” the Sheriff kisses the top of her head.

“You’ll spoil her if you keep calling her Princess,” Stiles warns him.

The Sheriff blinks, “That’s what I did wrong with you, right?”

Stiles shoots him a glare before popping two pieces of toast down, and pulling Elizabeth’s princess plate down from the cupboard. Elizabeth eats the same thing every morning; peanut butter toast with a banana sliced up and placed on top. Stiles remembers Erica craved peanut butter banana sandwiches all the time. 

“Daddy, milk,” Elizabeth murmurs, curling herself up in her grandfather’s arms.

“Please,” Stiles says immediately, and Elizabeth murmurs back, “please,” sniffling a little, still tired. He gets milk and pours it in her cup, turning back around and setting it down in front of her. 

“Thank you,” she says, and slowly sits up. Her toast pops up and Stiles makes it quickly before setting her plate down, too. He grabs a bagel for himself and sits down just as his father folds the paper up and sets it next to his empty plate, sighing. 

“Time for you to go to your dad,” he says, lifting her up and standing at the same time. He tickles her ribs for a few moments, Elizabeth giggling happily, finally waking up, as he carries her over to Stiles’ seat. He hands Elizabeth to him, and then her cup and plate. 

“Bye, princess,” he says, kissing the top of her head. Elizabeth blows him a kiss.

“Bye, pappy,” she tells him, before digging into her toast and promptly making a mess. 

“You’re taking her to Allison and Scott’s?” 

“Yep,” Stiles says around a mouthful of bagel. His dad shoots him a look. “She’ll be there ‘til I pick her up – or you, if you manage to get off before seven, please,” he says. The Sheriff nods. 

“I’ll try to make it to dinner at least, son,” he tells him, and grabs his keys, walking out the back door. 

“Uncle Scott’s today?” Elizabeth asks happily. 

“Aunt Allison’s,” Stiles corrects, “Uncle Scott has to work today. He should be home before I get there though, okay pumpkin?”

Elizabeth nods and shovels more toast into her mouth. 

He gets Elizabeth dressed and bundles her and her bag into the car, heading to Allison and Scott’s. Allison opens the door with a smile on her face. “Hey, Stiles,” she says, “hey Elizabeth!” Elizabeth wiggles in Stiles’ arms. 

“I want down,” she insists, wiggling in Stiles’ arms. Stiles loosens his hold and Allison takes her. 

“Thanks for watching her,” Stiles tells Allison, smiling as Elizabeth wraps her arms around Allison’s legs and grins up at her, nuzzling her nose against her jeans. 

“Like I could turn down time with my favorite little girl,” she grins at Elizabeth, and then at Stiles. “Seven, right?”

“Yep. Maybe earlier if Dad gets off before me, but he didn’t seem to think so. There’s been a lot of traffic accidents lately and they’re trying to monitor it or something.” 

“It’s no problem,” Allison shrugs, “Scott gets home at five so he’ll be happy to spend time with her.” 

“Great. So I’ll see you at seven,” Stiles says, and leans over, kissing Elizabeth’s forehead, “see you later, Elizabeth.”

“Bye daddy! Love you!”

==

Stiles gets home from work and picks Elizabeth up and starts cooking dinner. He’s washing up dishes in the sink when one shatters and a piece from it slices deep across his palm, a blinding flash of pain soaring across his eyes. He blinks, hisses, and stares down at his palm in disbelief. Bright red is starting to spill from it and drip into the sink. Elizabeth sits at the kitchen table coloring. “Elizabeth,” he says steadily, “can you go get your shoes please?”

She looks up, alarmed. “Why, daddy?”

“Daddy just hurt himself,” he says calmly, “and we’re probably going to have to go to the doctor’s, because it’s really deep. Can you put your shoes on for me, and then get your coat, while I wrap this up?”

Elizabeth nods somberly, chewing on her bottom lip worriedly. Stiles reaches over and grabs a dish towel, wrapping it around his palm quickly, before also turning over and shutting the stove top off so nothing catches fire while they’re at the emergency room. He thinks he can drive himself there without getting _too_ much blood on the upholstery. 

Elizabeth comes back in with her shoes on the wrong feet, but her coat is on, and Stiles bites down on his lower lip in amusement. It’ll have to do, for now, he thinks, because he doesn’t have the hands to tie them for her. He drives to the hospital and waits in the waiting room for a long time, wondering how people don’t understand that he has an almost-three year old daughter who doesn’t have the patience to sit so long in a waiting room, and gripping his palm to slow the bleeding. 

When the ER doctor has glued his palm together and prescribed him an antibiotic to keep infection out, Stiles packs Elizabeth back up and carries her now sleepy form to the car. He drives them to the pharmacy, noting that he has just enough time to get his prescription filled before it closes. By the time he pulls up to the pharmacy, Elizabeth is on her second wind of the night, bouncing in her seat and insisting that since it’s so late and she’s been so good, she should get a candy bar here.

“Absolutely not,” Stiles tells her, “it’s too late at night for you to have sugar.”

Elizabeth pouts, “Daddy, _please,_ ” and Stiles just pulls her out of her seat and carries her in. 

He takes his prescription up to the counter and sets Elizabeth on her own two feet. Just as the technician calls him up, Elizabeth takes off down the candy aisle. “Elizabeth, no,” Stiles says, but it’s too late, she’s already taken off, and Stiles has to get this prescription turned in. “Sorry,” he tells the technician who’s wearing a name tag that reads _Derek_ and a scowl that looks permanently glued to his face. “Here,” he shoves the script at him. 

_Derek_ studies it for a moment before nodding. “You’re lucky you got here now,” he says, “Ten minutes – maybe you could get your –” there’s a crash before he can say _get your daughter,_ and Stiles resists the urge to either slap his hand against his face, or slap _Derek_ , because no one ever understands how difficult it is to have a kid in the store by themselves unless they’re also parents. Clearly _Derek_ is not a parent, Stiles thinks, before racing down the candy aisle to Elizabeth. 

“Elizabeth,” he sighs. There are boxes of candy on the floor, and Elizabeth is looking at him, wide-eyed and innocent. “What did I tell you?” 

“No candy,” Elizabeth sighs. 

“Exactly. Help daddy pick these up, please,” he asks her, stooping down to start picking up boxes. Elizabeth grabs three at a time and shoves them into his arms, and Stiles puts them back on the shelf before reaching down and picking Elizabeth up. Her legs lock around the side of his waist, and he carries her back to the counter. 

By the time he gets there, Derek is holding out his bag with his prescription, and telling him, “Ten fifty,” like he can’t wait for them to get out of the pharmacy so he can close up and get out. 

Stiles can’t reach his wallet without setting Elizabeth down again, so he sits her on the counter and gets his wallet out of his back pocket, digging through it for a ten and two quarters. When he looks up, the technician is staring at his daughter with something akin to horror, and curiosity. “Uh,” Stiles says. “She’s just a little kid, not a disease, dude.” 

_Derek_ blinks. He repeats, “Ten fifty,” and Stiles hands the cash over. 

“Thanks?” Stiles says to him, but he thinks it sounds more like a question, so he just picks Elizabeth up again, grabs his pharmacy bag, and walks kind of quickly out the door. 

Strange doesn’t even begin to describe this _Derek_ guy.

==

Stiles doesn’t think anything of it for a week. He goes about his days, getting up, getting Elizabeth and himself dressed, and trying to remember everything he could possibly need for the day. It’s when he’s heading out to get eggs for dinner one night, that he notices the black Camaro sitting across the road - the same one that’s been sitting there for almost a week now. Stiles slows his walking and tries to think about when, exactly, he first saw the Camaro, but he can’t place it. He thinks for a moment, before shrugging, and heading over to tap on the window. 

There’s a hesitation between him and the driver – who he can’t see through the tinted windows, before the driver rolls down his window, and Stiles finds himself face to face with _Derek._ Stiles leans an arm against the top of the car and leans down a little more, and says, “Hey.” 

Derek blinks and says, “Hey.”

“So, you’re not a serial killer, right? I’d hope you were smarter than to pick the guy whose dad is a Sheriff, if you _are_ a serial killer,” Stiles says brightly. 

Derek blinks again. “I’m not a serial killer,” he says slowly. 

“Great – that is – great,” Stiles replies, and they stare at each other for a moment. 

“… So. What _are_ you doing outside my humble abode?” Stiles asks him. 

Derek must either be really slow, or not a people person, Stiles concludes, because he continues to stare at Stiles for a long moment, before he just blurts out, “Were you Erica’s boyfriend?” in that same tone that says he’s uninterested, but still interested all at once. 

Stiles chokes a little, wheezes, because it still _hurts_ to hear Erica’s name most times. He flails his hand a little and says, “Who _are_ you?”

“You were, right? I expected someone…” Derek curls his lip up a little, “different.”

“I was her _husband,_ for your information, you asshat,” Stiles snarls, “and how do you know Erica anyways?”

Derek blinks for a long moment. “I knew her,” he says simply, “a long time ago.” 

“A long time ago,” Stiles repeats. “How long ago?”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t keep track. We fell out of touch when she got with you.”

“A real loss on her part,” Stiles says sarcastically. Derek shoots him a glare. “No, really. Is there a reason you’re staking out my house?”

There’s a pause. “I was curious,” Derek finally says.

“Because I’m ‘different?’” Stiles air quotes the last word, and sneers at Derek. 

“No,” Derek says slowly, “because I wanted to know who finally got to Erica enough that she left everything behind.”

Stiles blinks. “Erica didn’t leave everything behind, what are you talking about?” he asks, and he’s genuinely confused. He and Erica went to school together; they grew up around one another. They went to her parents’ house every Thanksgiving for a huge dinner, and Erica stayed in Beacon Hills for college, going to the tiny community college instead of going away. 

“Her friends,” Derek clarifies finally, “what made her leave her friends behind.”

Stiles is a little hurt, because he never once asked Erica to leave anyone behind. He was always eager to meet her friends, to know what type of life she lived before him. Erica was the one who said no, it wasn’t a good idea, they weren’t a good influence, and Stiles finally agreed with her. He tells Derek this, and Derek shakes his head. “It wasn’t her fault,” he says. 

“Well it wasn’t _my_ fault,” Stiles says a little testily. 

“No,” Derek says, “no, I suppose it wasn’t.” Then he starts his car, “I should go.”

“Yes you should,” Stiles says, relieved that he’s leaving. “And maybe not come back,” he adds as he’s walking back to his own car, “Like, ever.” He reaches his car and unlocks the door, climbing in. “Weirdo,” he mutters under his breath and watches as Derek drives away.

==

Unfortunately, it’s not the last time Stiles sees Derek. It’s not even close to the last time, because suddenly Derek starts popping up _everywhere_ Stiles and Elizabeth happen to be. If Derek hadn’t personally insisted he wasn’t a serial killer, Stiles would be a nervous wreck. As it is, he’s getting a little more worried every day. “No, really,” he says to Derek when he _literally_ runs into him with the shopping cart holding Elizabeth and tonight’s dinner, “this has got to stop.” 

Derek just blinks at him.

“You know what I mean,” Stiles hisses, jabbing a finger at him, “this isn’t normal behavior. I don’t even _know_ you.” 

Derek holds up a box of Pop-Tarts and waves them back and forth in front of Stiles. “I was just getting these,” he says. 

“Really,” Stiles says flatly. “What flavor are they?” 

There’s a pause, and then Derek looks down to read the box. “Oh,” he says, and wrinkles his nose, putting them back on the shelf in the wrong place. “I don’t like blueberry,” he tells Stiles like he thinks Stiles will care. 

“Stop following me,” Stiles says a little hysterically, and Elizabeth glances between them curiously. 

Derek growls a little, and Stiles didn’t even think it was possibly to sound that animalistic outside of a bed, when not having sex. “I’m not following you.”

“Liar,” Stiles declares. “I’m going to leave now. _Don’t_ follow me.”

“I have to check out,” Derek protests. 

“You put your Pop-Tarts _back,_ ” Stiles cries, and Mrs. Donovan looks at him across the aisle like he’s crazy. Stiles offers her a smile and hopes it doesn’t look too crazed. 

“I want them now,” Derek says, and Jesus wept. This guy is a walking contradiction, apparently. 

Stiles says, “What _ever_ ,” and gets the hell out, standing in front of Elizabeth a little too protectively. 

==

Derek shows up at his door on a Saturday morning, looking just as grumpy and serious as he always does when he conveniently runs into Stiles. Stiles throws his hands up in the air and says, “Oh, my God.” 

“Can I come in?” Derek asks. 

“No,” Stiles says, and crowds against the door so Derek can’t get past him. Derek rolls his eyes and waits silently. Stiles fidgets a little before he says, “Okay, but only into the foyer. No further.”

Behind him, Elizabeth is noisily clanging pots and pans together during her ‘music session.’ She and Stiles had just started up a band before Derek got there. She pauses momentarily and looks towards the door to see Derek. “Hi Derek,” she chirps, and goes back to clanging on the pans. It says something about Derek’s stalking skills that Elizabeth now knows him by name. 

“She’s noisy,” Derek says, and wrinkles his nose. 

“She’s _three,_ ” Stiles says, only looking mildly horrified at the thought that Derek doesn’t know what three year olds are like. He kind of hates himself for thinking Derek is so beautiful; because it’s obvious he’s not very smart. And Stiles likes a little intelligence in his partner – he didn’t graduate second in his class for nothing. 

“Why did you name her Elizabeth?” Derek asks, point-blank. Stiles inhales sharply. 

“It was my mother’s name,” he finally says softly. “Why are you asking?” 

“Erica said she always wanted to name her daughter –” he cuts off for a moment, looking like he’s kind of choking on his words, “Laura. She wanted to name her daughter Laura,” he finishes.

Stiles studies him for a moment. “Laura is Elizabeth’s middle name,” he tells Derek, “we compromised. How did you know that she wanted to name her Laura?”

“Laura was my sister,” Derek murmurs, “we were all friends.” Stiles thinks he sees a hint of sadness in Derek’s eyes. 

“What happened to her?” Stiles asks patiently, ignoring the _thud-thud-thud_ pattern of his heart at the excitement of learning something new about Erica _and_ Derek. 

“She died,” Derek says, “Erica was really upset about it. Elizabeth’s name is in honor of Laura, too.” He looks at Stiles’ daughter, still clanging against the pots and pans. 

“How did you know her?” Stiles asks shakily, voice trembling a little as he stares at Derek, “How did you know my wife?”

Derek looks back at him with a clear look in his eyes, and he says, “There are things… things that Erica never told you, but you’ll need to know about Elizabeth. I think – I’m sure she planned on telling you eventually. She just never got to it.”

“And you know why.”

It’s not a question, Stiles realizes suddenly, it’s a statement, because he _knows_ Derek knows why Erica never got to it. He _knows_ Derek knows how Erica died, and that there’s suddenly probably a purpose behind her death, that it wasn’t just an accidental animal attack, like everyone has assumed for the last two years. Stiles can’t help the nervous feeling that flutters in his stomach at the thought. 

Derek just looks back at him for a long moment. They’re interrupted before he can reply by Elizabeth’s sharp squeal. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy, my finger!” she screams, and Stiles breaks his gaze and bolts over to Elizabeth’s side, scooping her up. 

“What did you do, pumpkin, huh?” he murmurs, lifting her finger up and kissing it. 

“Hurt,” she tells him, “the spoon,” she points at the wooden spoon and then glares at it like its personally offended her. 

“Bad spoon!” Stiles points at it, too, and kisses her finger again. He realizes she’s gazing at Derek contemplatively, before she points at him. 

“Derek kisses it too,” she says decisively, and kicks against Stiles’ thighs to get him to move. 

Stiles opens his mouth, “Oh, honey, no –” 

“I can,” Derek says before he can finish, “Will it make it feel better, Elizabeth?” Elizabeth nods confidently, so Derek moves forward and gently takes her finger, kissing the tip of it. Elizabeth beams at him. “Is that better?” he asks her seriously, and she nods happily. 

“Doesn’t hurt,” she tells them, and then wriggles in Stiles arms to get back down. Stiles sets her down and turns back to Derek. 

“You aren’t telling me something,” he accuses.

“I’m keeping you safe,” Derek replies honestly, and glances back down at Elizabeth. “Both of you. I’m not going to stop following you, Stiles.”

“Because there’s danger?”

“Because you’re clumsy and accident prone and trouble seems to attract you,” Derek says with an added eye roll. Stiles gasps dramatically.

“ _Rude._ ”

“See you, Stiles,” Derek says, and he thinks he sees a little bit of a smile twitching at the corners of Derek’s lips. 

==

“He just like… follows me around. But not dangerously,” Stiles says, shoving fries in his mouth. Scott narrows his eyes. 

“Someone is stalking you and my goddaughter and it’s not dangerous,” Scott repeats. 

They’re spending the night at Scott and Allison’s because Stiles likes to give his dad a night or two alone every once in a while, even though the Sheriff insists he doesn’t need it. Stiles knows how hard he works at the station though, and then he comes home and plays hard with Elizabeth most nights. Stiles likes to know he’s getting a few stress-free days here and there. Elizabeth is already finished eating, sitting in her pajamas in the corner of the living room; playing with the toys Allison and Scott always keep out for her. Allison is curled up in a way Stiles could never imagine being curled up on a kitchen chair, in her sweats, with her contacts out and glasses on. Scott sits across from them, gripping his mug of coffee and staring at Stiles, not amused.

“Well, no. It could potentially be dangerous, but Derek’s not a serial killer. And he’s _protecting_ us. He says.” 

“Stiles that’s weird,” Allison says, her head resting on her knees, blinking up at him. 

Stiles says, “I think I kind of like it. After… Erica.” He swallows. 

“What’s Derek going to do to protect you from an _animal_ attack?” Scott questions, and really, Scott doesn’t seem to have a comforting bone in his body. 

“Maybe he wears a weapon or something. Maybe he can do hand-to-hand combat and kick the monster off,” Stiles shrugs. Scott looks at him like he’s lost his mind. Allison just shakes her head, smothering her laughter behind her hand. 

“I… he’s growing on me,” Stiles finally says, swallowing the last of his fries. “And he cares about Elizabeth, even though he barely knows her. I don’t know though, there’s something weird about him. Something he won’t tell me.”

“Like what?” Scott questions. 

“Like… he knew Erica, right? But Erica never told him about Elizabeth, or even me. But yet, he still knew she’d died, and Elizabeth’s name and why her middle name is Laura and stuff.”

“That’s weird, Stiles,” Scott tells him, “Like stalker-level weird.”

Stiles doesn’t bother to defend Derek anymore, because once Scott gets something in his head, he never seems to change his mind. 

==

Stiles’ car breaks down on the side of the road during a rainstorm, with Elizabeth is in the backseat. She’s fussy because it’s getting late, and she wants to go home and see her grandfather before her bedtime. She’s crying as Stiles tries to figure out what the hell to do. He knows absolutely nothing helpful about vehicles, it’s pouring down rain, and his three year old daughter is sitting in the backseat. Just as he’s about to call someone for help, there’s a tap on his window. When he looks up, there’s a blonde guy leaning down, smiling at him. Stiles hesitates, but winds his window down a crack.

“Do you need help?” The blonde guy asks pleasantly. 

“Um – I can… call someone,” Stiles says, “I don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not; it’s sort of my job,” the blonde haired guy says, “well – not fixing cars but… never mind.”

Stiles narrows his eyes and says, “Are you one of Derek’s goons?”

The blonde looks offended. “I’m not a _goon,_ ” he says. 

Stiles looks around and doesn’t see a car sitting anywhere. “Where did you _come_ from?”

“Uh – that’s – I can explain,” the blonde says quickly, “I’m Isaac, by the way.”

“S –” 

“Stiles,” Isaac finishes for him, flashing him a boyish grin, “I know who you are.”

“That’s it,” Stiles says. “Derek is getting it. I’m going to _hurt_ him. What is the matter with him? You are a complete stranger. You _could_ be a serial killer, oh, god, please, just don’t be a serial killer. I don’t want to have to tell Scott he was right, because Scott is _never_ right and now is not the time to start.”

Isaac looks amused. He tells Stiles, “Pop the hood,” and walks around to the front of the car. Stiles has no choice but to pop the hood, with Isaac standing there, waiting expectantly. He presses the button just as Elizabeth sniffles.

“I wanna go home,” she says. Stiles looks in the rearview mirror at her and offers a smile. 

“I know pumpkin. We’re going to be home just as soon as this nice man fixes the car.”

Elizabeth sniffs again. “He smells like Derek,” she says. Stiles looks at her. His daughter is probably the one true love of his life, and he’ll never, ever say it to anyone, but sometimes she’s a little strange. The look on her face is so Erica-like at that moment, that missing her suddenly seems sharp and tangible, something he only feels every once in a while, when Elizabeth does something that is exactly what Erica would have done. 

“Here,” Stiles shoves her DVD player back at her, turning it on so she can watch Dora. “Watch this, baby, and the time will fly, okay?” 

“Okay,” she sighs. 

A few minutes later, Isaac taps on the window again. “Try that,” he tells Stiles. Stiles turns the key and the car comes to life. 

Stiles looks at him. “Tell Derek thanks. And uh… sorry you got wet?”

Isaac flashes him a grin. “I like being outside no matter what. And you’re welcome.”

“Right,” Stiles says, and can’t help feeling a little uncertain. 

==

“You are _insane,_ ” Stiles jabs his finger into Derek’s chest. Derek looks down. 

“Remove your finger,” he says lowly. 

“ _Insane,_ ” Stiles repeats, finger still jabbed into his chest. “You had _someone else_ following me. What is he, part of your goon squad?” 

Derek stares at him for another moment. “Remove your finger,” he repeats, “or I’m going to break it.”

Stiles blinks up at him, finger still touching for a moment, as he stares in shock. Finally he breathes deeply and takes his finger off Derek’s chest. “Just so you know,” he says, inhaling deeply, “I’m not scared of you.”

Derek avoids this statement and instead says, “He’s not part of my ‘goon squad,’ he’s part of my pack.”

“Pack,” Stiles says, “like… like a wolf pack? Is that where you’re going with this, Derek, because that’s _weird._ You are not a wolf.”

Derek stares back at him unflinchingly and says, “Maybe we should talk.”

“That’s a really good idea, because I think you’re losing your mind. I think you need help, and I’m not a professional,” Stiles allows himself to admit, “but I will try my best to fix your brain.” He studies him carefully for any reaction and notices the blush starting to spread up Derek’s neck.

“I’m not crazy,” Derek mumbles. 

“Right,” Stiles replies. 

“Where’s Elizabeth?” Derek asks suddenly, and sniffs the air like he _is a wolf;_ holy crap, Stiles thinks. He’s certain Derek’s lost his mind. 

“She’s… upstairs napping,” Stiles says uncertainly.

“We should sit down,” Derek eyes the living room. 

“Oh no!” Stiles yells, “No way, Derek, you are _freaking me out._ Suddenly I’m not convinced you’re not going to slit my throat and sell my body parts or something. I was convinced that you weren’t dangerous, but all the sudden, you’re creeping me out with your ‘pack’ talk.” 

“There _is_ a pack,” Derek insists, “I can – Jesus, Stiles,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, and when he opens his eyes again, they’re red, a deep, eerie crimson color that makes Stiles do a full body shudder. When he opens his mouth again, there are _fangs_ , and Stiles opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again – but no sound comes out. 

Stiles says, “Huh,” and blinks at Derek some more. 

Derek looks at him as his eyes slowly turn back to normal and his canines shorten again. “I can explain,” he says.

“You – you – you _liar,_ ” Stiles shouts, “You told me you weren’t dangerous! You have _teeth,_ and _eyes_ and you’re – you’re a _werewolf!_ ” 

“Stiles –” 

“Were you even planning to tell me,” Stiles fumes, “when you were running around stalking me – oh, my God, Isaac is one too, isn’t he? That’s why you said he’s part of your pack! Who else, Derek? Who else is part of your pack?”

Derek is quiet for a long moment. “Isaac, Boyd, Jackson, and Lydia,” he says quietly. 

“Lydia Martin,” Stiles repeats, “and Jackson Whittemore? They’re… they’re _werewolves,_ ” Stiles can’t process any of this. 

Derek says, “And Erica.”

Stiles is about to say something else when he realizes what Derek just said. He closes his mouth and his heart skips a beat. “You’re lying,” he says shakily. 

Derek shakes his head no. “Think about it, Stiles – how many animals just target innocent human beings?”

“It was a _mountain lion._ They’re hostile.”

“So are werewolves that we find encroaching on our territory. Erica was alone – she left when she met you because I gave her an ultimatum, and she didn’t appreciate it. She was always so fierce and independent.” Derek gives a brief, sad smile to Stiles. Stiles suddenly realized that he never let Derek in, and he doesn’t really want to, right now. 

“Erica… was alone,” he says finally, “because you gave her an… ultimatum? What, me or you, Derek? Is that it, and you were mad when she chose me over you. What did you expect?”

“I expected her to choose _pack._ ” Derek’s eyes flash. 

“Over her boyfriend and child!” Stiles screeches, “You expected her to choose a bunch of animals –” he stabs Derek in the chest with his finger again, “over me, over Elizabeth? If that’s what you thought, Derek, you’re fucking crazier than I thought. You son of a bitch,” Stiles spits, and turns around, marching to the kitchen.

He thinks Derek will leave, but he doesn’t. He appears in the kitchen where Stiles is slamming stuff down on the counter to start dinner. He doesn’t even think about the fact that Elizabeth is upstairs napping, because he’s so _angry._ He’s angry that Derek is telling him this, he’s angry that there’s danger in Beacon Hills that he can’t protect Elizabeth from, and he’s angry at _Erica_ , a deep, burning anger that he’s never allowed himself to feel until now. 

“She chose you, Stiles,” Derek says softly behind him, and Stiles whirls around. 

“It doesn’t matter though, does it? Because she’s _dead,_ because you left her behind when she did chose me. That’s what this is, isn’t it? A guilt trip you’re trying to get rid of. You feel guilty because if you and your _pack_ had been there, you could’ve protected her from getting killed.”

“She was an omega and there’s nothing I could have done to protect her,” Derek says stiffly.

“Liar,” Stiles hisses. “You _made_ her an omega.”

Derek visibly flinches at this. “You… know what they are?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Stiles says, “my guess is they’re wolves cast out of the pack. Which you did to Erica.”

“Stiles that’s not –” 

“It is,” Stiles insists, “you gave up on her because she fell in love with the helpless human, and not even a year later, she died.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just drills his gaze into Stiles, willing him to understand. But Stiles can’t find it in him to understand, he’s _boiling_ with rage, and he doesn’t know what to do besides throw words at Derek that _hurt_ as much as Stiles is hurting at the moment. 

“I don’t care what you are,” he says shakily, “just get out.” 

Derek doesn’t say anything for a long time, and then he just turns around and walks out the front door. Stiles breathes out slowly.

==

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Stiles asks Lydia. He’s at her apartment watching her cook for their monthly dinner together. Jackson is in the living room playing with Elizabeth. Stiles was never entirely close to Lydia and Jackson when they were in high school, but they ended up going to the same college together, and they got closer because they were the only familiar faces Stiles had on campus. 

“Tell you what?” Lydia asks, focusing on stirring the risotto just right. 

“About the whole –” Stiles claws at the air with his fingers and knows Lydia can see him out the corner of her eyes, “you know, _wolfy_ thing.”

Lydia stops stirring.

“Who told you?” she demands, turning narrowed eyes on Stiles, looking almost angry. 

“Derek did,” he shrugs. 

“Since when have you been talking to Derek? Why didn’t I _know?_ ” 

“He’s been following Elizabeth and I around,” Stiles tells her, “and finally my car broke down and Isaac was there; he offered to fix it. I figured out that Derek had Isaac follow us around that day, and I asked him what it was about when he showed up at my door two days later. He flashed his stupid teeth and eyes at me.”

“And?” Lydia grips the wooden spoon. 

“You knew Erica better than I thought you did,” Stiles says quietly, and Lydia lets the wooden spoon start stirring again. Lydia is many things, a perfectionist above all, and even though they’re about to have a serious discussion, she’s not going to ruin the risotto, Stiles knows. “More than just the wife of one of your best friends.”

Lydia flashes him a quick smile. “You _are_ my best friend,” she tells him.

“But you have other friends,” Stiles prompts, “Wolf friends. A pack. Tell me, Lydia.”

Lydia sighs and shuts the risotto off finally. She turns to him and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “Derek wasn’t always the leader of our pack,” she says, “he had a sister –” 

“Laura,” Stiles interrupts.

Lydia glares at him. “Yes. His sister was Laura. She was there to turn Erica, right out of high school. Erica’s seizures were getting worse, and Laura saw her fall down to the sidewalk one day in a seizure. She was so angry when no one helped her, so she offered her the bite. Her and Erica – they were really good friends, not least because Laura literally saved her _life,_ when she gave her the bite. They were… similar in a lot of ways. Headstrong, sassy, not above using their sexuality to get what they needed from others – this was before Erica met you,” Lydia cuts off her story to say. 

“I know about Erica’s wild days,” Stiles flashes a small smile. “That’s one thing she did tell me.”

“Right,” Lydia says, looking sad for a moment. “There was… a werewolf – Derek and Laura’s uncle,” she says, hands fluttering like she’s trying to look for the words to explain all this history. “He killed Laura for the title of Alpha, his own _niece._ ” Lydia shakes her head. “Around the same time, he attacked me, because he needed people for his pack then, to make him stronger. I survived the bite, and became a wolf too. Peter was never around, always lurking in the shadows to maim or kill people, I guess,” she breaks off for a brief, dark chuckle. 

“So Derek had to train me,” Lydia sighs. “He was dealing with Laura’s death and three new werewolves already, and then I came along. The good news is that I was good at keeping control relatively fast. The bad news is, Erica was really shitty at dealing with her grief. It was around that time she met you. You really saved her from herself, Stiles. She loved you, she did. She was grateful for you every day. And Derek was mad. He insisted that humans were a danger to the pack, that they couldn’t be trusted. Erica fought with him so hard, because she wanted to _tell_ you. But Derek gave her a choice: you or the pack.”

“She chose me,” Stiles whispers softly. 

“She chose you,” Lydia smiles. “And then Elizabeth was coming, and you and Erica were getting married, and so she never even thought about going back to the pack. She ran off by herself in the forest on the full moon.”

“That’s what those trips were,” Stiles murmurs, “not a business trip.” Lydia shakes her head. 

“Six months after Elizabeth was born, Erica was attacked by Peter – Peter was steadily trying to kill off Laura’s pack so he could make his own. He was already frustrated because he couldn’t get me to bend to his will, so he was at a last resort. Eliminate every other wolf so I had no choice. It didn’t work. Derek found Erica and went on a rampage, hunting Peter down and killing him, regaining the title of Alpha in the process,” Lydia finishes.

“He didn’t _know_ about Elizabeth before that?” Stiles demands. 

Lydia shrugs. “He knew Erica had been pregnant, but she’d never mentioned you by name. Only Jackson and I knew everything from both sides. I think… she was relieved to keep us, through you,” Lydia says thoughtfully. 

“How did Jackson – you know?” 

“When Derek gained the Alpha powers, Jackson asked him for the bite. He didn’t want me to be on my own,” Lydia rolls her eyes. 

“That’s a good – that’s good,” Stiles says finally, “that Jackson wants to protect you.”

“It’s all Derek wants to do for you,” Lydia says, eyes drilling into him. “He won’t admit it, but he thinks Erica’s death is his fault. But he’s also fond of Elizabeth. And not just because she’s Erica’s – because of Elizabeth herself. She’s pack.”

“She’s pack,” Stiles repeats, “Oh, god. She’s _pack._ Is that what you’re saying, Lydia? That my daughter is part werewolf.”

“Could smell it on her from the day she was born,” Lydia says breezily, pulling plates down to set the table. 

“Was Erica – was she going to tell me?” 

Lydia pauses pulling the silverware out. “I think so,” she whispers, “she just needed the right time. She knew she had to tell you – because of Elizabeth. She just thought –” Lydia cuts herself off, a little teary. 

“She thought she had all the time in the world,” Stiles says finally, staring blankly at the wall. 

Lydia doesn’t say anything.

==

Stiles is heading out to do the grocery shopping, Elizabeth with his dad at home, when he spots the black Camaro parked across the street again. He heaves a sigh and crosses over to it, walking around to the passenger side door. He hears the click of the lock being undone, and opens the door, sliding in. 

There’s silence for a moment before Stiles says, “She’s okay, you know. I take good care of her.”

“You do,” Derek nods. “But there are some things you can’t protect her from.”

“Are they… a danger, since you took care of the one who killed my wife?” Stiles asks him nervously. “Is that why you watch after Elizabeth so closely?”

“I watch after her because she’s a very special girl, and a lot of people might want access to her someday,” Derek says finally.

“ _Why?_ ” Stiles demands. 

“Packs… are lacking in new werewolves,” Derek says, gripping the steering wheel. “Especially born ones. They’re a little more talented, I guess you could say. Haven’t you ever noticed how skilled Elizabeth is, at just three years old? The fact that she’s like a little gymnast already? Or that she never gets sick, and heals quickly when she gets injured.”

“I thought she was just a healthy three year old,” Stiles defends himself.

“She is,” Derek offers a quick grin, “because she’s a wolf.”

“But I’m human, wasn’t there a chance that she… wouldn’t be?”

“It was 50/50,” Derek tells him. “But she got the gene, apparently.”

“When will she start turning?” Stiles asks softly, glancing back up at his father’s house. 

“Not until she’s thirteen,” Derek says, also staring at the house. “But I can… I can train her now, Stiles. If you want me to. I can tell her the stories, tell her what to expect.”

“And keep her safe,” Stiles chimes in. 

“Not just her,” Derek turns bright eyes on Stiles, looking at him seriously, “You, too. She needs her father.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything for a long, long time. Finally he says, “Drive me to the grocery store?”

There’s a twitch of a smile at Derek’s lips again, the way he always tries to hide his smiles, and he says sarcastically, “Certainly, Miss Daisy.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. Stiles just doesn’t know if he wants to open up the can of worms that comes with letting Derek permanently into his life. 

==

Stiles takes two days to think about it before giving Derek a definitive answer. He spends the weekend playing with Elizabeth, with her thousands of toys that seem to have accumulated over the years. They’re sitting on her bedroom floor playing tea party with her favorite stuffed animals when Elizabeth looks up at him. “Daddy, where’s Derek?”

Stiles pauses, teacup halfway to his face, and eyes Elizabeth. “What – pumpkin, you hardly _know_ Derek. Why are you asking this?”

“I want Derek to play,” she says, “plus I like him, and you always smell good after you see him. Like Derek,” she says. 

“ _Smell_ like him,” Stiles huffs. It’s then that he realizes that Derek was right. Elizabeth is unique, and Stiles can’t guide her through whatever she’s going to go through – but Derek can. Derek is _willing_ to. Stiles might still be a little angry with Derek, but that’s his problem, not his daughter’s. And he can’t keep someone away from her because _he_ is mad. 

“I’ll get Derek to come play tea party right now, Elizabeth,” he says, standing up. “Stay here, okay?”

Elizabeth nods, fixing her favorite teddy bear so that it’s sitting upright, instead of flopping to the side. 

Stiles goes to the front door, scans the street for Derek’s car, and when he spots it, he gestures for Derek to come in. Derek watches him for a moment, before he gets out of the car. “Elizabeth wants you to play tea party,” Stiles says as Derek walks up to him. 

Derek eyes him nervously. “I don’t know how to play tea party,” he says. Stiles grins. 

“It’s never too late to learn.”

Upstairs, Elizabeth sits him down on the floor next to Berry the Bear, and hands him a teacup. Derek stares down at it blankly. “Um,” he says.

“You hafta to drink it,” Elizabeth huffs, reaching over and petting Berry. 

“Okay,” Derek says slowly, staring down into the empty cup. Stiles covers his mouth to smother his laughter, sitting down next to Derek. 

“Can you get me some tea, pumpkin?” he asks her, and Elizabeth reaches over to get a teacup, handing it to him. “Thanks,” he says, and takes a sip, saying, “this is delicious tea, Princess Elizabeth! You certainly know how to make it just right!” 

Elizabeth beams. “Daddy, you be the prince!” 

Stiles leans in, “Hey, what if we make Derek the prince, pumpkin? I bet he’s just as good at it.”

“Can you do the voice?” Elizabeth frowns at Derek.

“The voice,” Derek repeats. 

“Why yes, kind sir,” Stiles says in the cheesiest faux-British accent possibly in existence. “The voice, of course. The voice of a handsome young prince coming to meet his princess for the first time.” Stiles tugs on Elizabeth’s braid, and she giggles. 

“The voice, Derek!”

“Please,” Stiles reminds her automatically. 

“Please!” Elizabeth squeals, and Derek looks between them, uncertainly, and almost _nervous_ , Stiles realizes. 

“Uh – okay,” Derek says. 

Stiles says, “It’s not _rocket science,_ or even being an Alpha big boss.”

Derek shoots him a glare. “This is like the pop-tarts and me proving you wrong all over again, isn’t it?” Stiles huffs.

“I can do it,” Derek snarls. Elizabeth runs over to her toy box and digs out a Prince’s crown, coming back over.

“Down!” she tells him, and then seems to remember, “please!” just as Stiles is about to tell her. Derek eyes the crown apprehensively, but tilts his head down so Elizabeth can put it on. When he looks back up, the crown is crooked, and there’s a blush spreading up Derek’s neck. 

“Thank you, Princess Elizabeth,” Derek offers in a rather impressive British accent. Elizabeth beams at him. 

“You’re welcome, Prince Derek. Tea?” she moves over to her table and picks up the tea pot. Stiles leans against the wall and watches the two of them. 

“Please,” Derek says politely, holding out his cup. 

It goes on, and on, Derek talking in the British accent, and Elizabeth entirely too excited about it, until Elizabeth starts lagging, getting tired and ready for her nap. “Okay,” Stiles claps his hands together and stands up from where he was playing the princess’s humble servant, and picks Elizabeth up, turning her upside down and dangling her for a moment. She squeals and laughs, reaching her hands down to touch the floor and do a tiny handstand. “Time for all good Princesses to take a nap, pumpkin.”

Elizabeth frowns. “Will Derek be here when I wake up?” she asks. 

“We’ll see. _If_ you take a nap,” Stiles allows. “When you wake up, Pappy will be here though.” Elizabeth claps her hands together, and then reaches up, grabbing Stiles’ forearms to turn right side up again. 

“You are a _monkey,_ ” Stiles says, tickling her. Elizabeth giggles, and then yawns once, nuzzling her face into Stiles’ neck. He walks over and deposits Elizabeth onto her bed, pulling the covers down and then covering her once she’s settled. He leans down, kissing her forehead. “Sleep tight, pumpkin.”

“Don’t let the bed-bugs bite,” she yawns. Then she remembers something and her eyes fly open. She points at Derek. “Derek, too!” she says. Stiles nods at Derek, gesturing him forward. 

Derek leans down and kisses her forehead. “’Night, Elizabeth. Sweet dreams.” 

“Like angel clouds,” Elizabeth says, sleepy once again, already drifting off to sleep. 

Stiles and Derek step out of her room, and Derek turns to Stiles and asks, “What are angel clouds?”

Stiles shrugs. “She thinks Erica’s in the clouds and she’s an angel, so when my Dad tucks her in, he always says ‘Dream well,’ kind of like what you said, I guess. And one night, after she started talking, she said, ‘like angel clouds.’ It’s been their tradition since then. I guess she’s planning to use it with you, too.”

Stiles can tell Derek softens towards the story, that he feels a little comforted about it, just like Stiles always does whenever Elizabeth mumbles _angel clouds,_ half asleep, under her breath. He smiles at Derek. “She’s a smart cookie.”

Derek nods, peering back into the room where Elizabeth is curled around Berry, snoring softly. “She’s special,” he says. “Smart and strong and…” he clears his throat, “beautiful. She takes after Erica a lot – but I see a lot of you in her, too.”

Stiles grins at him. “It’s the eyes, huh? Big and gorgeous, just like Bambi – that’s what Erica always said. She said she was glad Elizabeth got them. My mother had them too.”

“Your eyes are not gorgeous,” Derek looks like he’s physically choking on the word _gorgeous._ “Elizabeth’s, maybe, but not yours.” 

Stiles laughs and makes his way down the stairs, with Derek following him. “Admit it,” he says, clapping Derek on the back as they reach the kitchen, “they’re pretty gorgeous.” 

Derek wrinkles his nose. “No,” he says flatly. 

Stiles just grins. 

As he starts preparing coffee for them, he turns around and faces Derek again. “Yes,” he says. Derek snaps his head and looks at him. 

“What.” 

“Yes, you can – train Elizabeth, or whatever,” Stiles waves a hand around. “Yes, you can help her.” 

Stiles never noticed the tension Derek held in his shoulders or around his eyes until the look of relief that flashes across his face is so bright and blinding, Stiles can’t _help_ but notice. Derek doesn’t say thanks, but he nods once in acknowledgement, and they sit and drink their coffee together silently. 

==

“So I have to tell Scott and Allison,” he says as they pull up to the Hale house and he’s pulling Elizabeth out of her seat. Derek is behind him, and Stiles knows he won’t admit it, but he’s anxious to see Elizabeth for the first time in three days. Derek had to go away, he’d told Stiles, on business. Which Stiles thinks really just means he’s getting everything in preparation for the upcoming full moon or something, but what does he know?

“No,” Derek says flatly, and Elizabeth flails in Stiles’ arms, reaching towards Derek, wanting him to pick her up. Stiles hands her over and sighs.

“ _Yes,_ ” he says. “What if one day they’re babysitting her and she just – sprouts fangs or claws or something?” Derek growls low in his throat at Stiles and rolls his eyes.

“That’s not going to happen,” he says simply, “so there’s no reason to tell them.”

“Lydia and Jackson know!” 

“Stiles.” The look on his face says sometimes he can’t believe how dense Stiles is, even though Stiles is, actually, a very intelligent guy. 

“Right – right, obviously they know,” Stiles mutters under his breath. “But Scott is my best friend. He’s Elizabeth’s _godfather,_ and Allison is her _godmother._ ”

“It’s dangerous,” Derek says as they make their way up the porch and into the house. 

“My whole life is dangerous,” Stiles mutters, “more so since you’ve come into it, somehow.”

Derek glares.

“I’m telling them,” he says, “and you’re just going to have to live with it. They need to know about the furry puppies.”

“We are _not_ puppies, you moron,” Derek snaps, and sets Elizabeth down when they reach the living room. Stiles murmurs something unintelligible in response. 

“Just go do your wolf-teaching thing,” he waves a hand. “I’ll sit here and pretend I know nothing.”

“You don’t. Know anything, I mean,” Derek says. It’s Stiles’ turn to glare, and he tosses a throw pillow at Derek’s head as he sinks down onto the couch. 

Derek throws the pillow back at him and shoots him a twitch of a smile, just like always, before Elizabeth is tugging on his pants leg. “Derek, are we gonna read?” Stiles smirks at him. 

The stories Derek are reading to Elizabeth are old family stories, Stiles thinks, and he’s trying to teach her the rules and legends of the Hale family and werewolves in general now. He can’t really do much _training_ until Elizabeth is old enough to change, but they’re working their way up to telling her that werewolves really exist, and that she is one – or will be one, Stiles thinks. 

“Yes,” Derek says, like he’s just finally decided on what to do with her today. “And your Dad is going to leave us alone, right?” He snaps his gaze over to Stiles. 

“Right, right,” Stiles sighs, “the weak human cannot know the secrets of the wolves.”

Elizabeth giggles. “No, Daddy!” she squeals as Derek picks her up and turns her upside down once, before throwing her over his shoulder. “Bye, Daddy!”

“Bye, Pumpkin,” he calls, but the door to the study is already closing. He sighs and pulls out his own book, starting to read. Just because _Derek_ isn’t going to tell him anything about lycanthropy doesn’t mean he’s not going to look it up on his own. 

Two hours later, Elizabeth comes running out. “I’m hungry,” she announces as Stiles snaps his book shut and shoves it back into Elizabeth’s diaper bag. She’s three, but she’s messy still, so Stiles still has to carry around extra changes of clothes for her, especially when she goes to Derek’s, or Allison and Scott’s.

“Well then, we should make some pancakes,” Stiles says, standing up and heading to Derek’s kitchen. It’s tradition that after every visit with Derek, Stiles makes a pile of pancakes for them. He thinks that maybe no one cooks for Derek very often, not the least because his fridge was _empty_ of everything but beer and an old piece of fruit the first time Stiles opened it. 

It’s weird, but Stiles likes to pick up some groceries for him most times before they come out to visit. It’s weird, but Stiles likes to take care of Derek without actually letting on that he _is_ taking care of Derek. 

Sometimes Boyd or Isaac will join them, because they live in the Hale house, too, but most times it’s just Stiles, Elizabeth, and Derek. Tonight isn’t one of those nights. Apparently both Boyd and Isaac are home, and the second they smell pancakes cooking, they fly down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Wow,” Stiles says, “impressive.”

“Derek never cooks,” Isaac says, giving him puppy eyes. “And he won’t let me cook after the soup incident.”

“Soup incident,” Stiles repeats. “I don’t want to know. Get a plate and sit down – I’ll bring them out in a minute,” he instructs. Then he shudders because he _really_ doesn’t want to know about the soup incident. The egg incident last week when Isaac tried to help was bad enough. 

Stiles sets the stack of pancakes down in the center of the table and turns back around to put more on. As he’s about to put the first batch on, Boyd takes the spatula from his hands. “I can do it,” he says in his deep voice, “you sit down and eat. You always cook for us.”

Stiles beams at him, “Thanks. And I like cooking for you. Apparently the only style of food Derek knows is _Cajun._ ”

Derek growls. Elizabeth and Isaac both giggle. Stiles likes Isaac, genuinely likes him, and he likes how great he is with Elizabeth, even if they have paired up to be partners-in-crime since Elizabeth has started coming around the Hale house more. When Stiles was officially introduced to Isaac, and they had a _real_ conversation, Isaac told him that Erica had been his _best_ friend, the one person to know everything about him, and he missed her, too. Stiles had to choke back tears as Isaac recalled her with such fondness. 

Now, he seems to be letting Stiles in almost as much, but he especially lets Elizabeth in, teaching her new games, telling her stories, and chasing her around outside when Stiles has paperwork to do for the lawyers he works for. Isaac is like a lost little boy just looking for someone to _care_ , Stiles thinks, even now, after the Hales had taken him into their pack. He’s told Stiles a little about his past, his shitty father, losing both his brother and his mom. Stiles can’t help but feel affectionate towards him. 

He ruffles Isaac’s hair as he moves to sit down beside him and Derek, and piles a few pancakes onto his own plate. Derek pushes forward his normal huge glass of chocolate milk, eyeing it like it’s done something to personally offend him. “It’s chocolate _milk,_ ” Stiles says. 

“It’s filled with _chocolate._ It’s still not healthy for a grown man to drink,” Derek protests. 

“You are insane,” Stiles says, and picks his glass up, taking a huge drink before setting it back down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Derek huffs. “So can we talk about Scott and Allison again?” he chirps.

“No.”

“Derek –” 

“ _No,_ ” Derek says again. “You don’t know as much about Allison as I do.”

“What do you even mean?” Stiles demands, arching a brow, fork pausing in midair. “What’s there to know about Allison, Derek?”

“She’s an _Argent,_ ” he growls. 

“Well, no, actually, she’s a McCall,” Stiles corrects. 

“It doesn’t matter. She’s still an Argent, and she hunts us down,” Derek hisses, eyes flashing red for a brief moment. 

“What does that mean?” Stiles swallows, “hunts you down? What are you talking about?”

Isaac shifts in his seat. “The Argents burnt down the Hale house,” he says quietly. Derek sighs. “Mostly Kate Argent. Derek and Laura didn’t think that the others had anything to do with it. But they’re… you know… _hunters,_ ” he whispers the last word like he’s saying Voldemort, instead of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Stiles stares at him. 

“Hunters,” he repeats flatly. 

Isaac nods somberly. 

“Okay,” Stiles says. “Okay. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with that information, but right now, I’m going to process it while I eat these pancakes and drink my chocolate milk – _without_ anyone judging.” He glares at Derek. 

Later, when Isaac has Elizabeth outside, and Stiles is sitting in Derek’s living room filling out paperwork, Stiles looks up. “So tell me about it,” he says. 

Derek shifts in his seat, and avoids making eye contact. “About what?” he asks, playing dumb. Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“About the _Argents,_ Derek, what do you think I mean?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Derek mumbles, leaning back in his seat. There’s laughter outside from Isaac and Elizabeth, and Stiles turns his head towards the window, watching Isaac lift Elizabeth up and spin her around over his head. When he turns back, Derek has his own twitchy-smile on his face, and Stiles smiles even wider. 

He says, “Don’t play dumb, Derek. There’s a story there, one that you never want to come face to face with.”

Derek clears his throat and coughs a little, before scratching the back of his neck. “I dated Kate Argent when I was sixteen. She was older than me and I was thrilled to be with someone like her. A spitfire, I thought. It turns out she was a psycho, more like. She used me, got information about my family, and then she hired two idiots to help her burn my house down with eleven people in it. Some of which were _human._ Laura and I were at school; it’s the only reason we survived. My uncle Peter survived but he was catatonic from all the pain.”

Stiles is quiet for a long moment. Then he says softly, “I’m sorry.” When he looks at Derek, there’s a faraway look in his eyes that says he’s thinking about the family he used to have, and Stiles _knows_ that feeling. 

“I had Laura,” Derek clears his throat, “but then she died, too.”

“How?” Stiles isn’t sure he wants to know. 

“Peter… was not as catatonic as he led everyone to believe,” Derek murmurs, gripping the arms of the chair. “He killed Laura for the Alpha powers. He wasn’t counting on Erica figuring it out. She’d left our pack,” Derek says, closing his eyes, “but she never gave up on finding whoever killed Laura, because Laura was the person who _saved_ her. She figured it out the week of the full moon, and Peter realized that she had. So he –” 

“He _killed_ her,” Stiles says, something deep inside him aching, “he killed my wife because she just wanted to avenge her friend.”

“I found him.” Derek’s eyes burn bright red, something fierce inside of them. “I found him, Stiles, and _I_ killed him. For Laura. For Erica.”

Stiles closes his manila folder, and stands up. “I just need –” he cuts himself off, but Derek seems to know, because he nods. 

Stiles exits the house, leaning against a post on the porch, arms crossed, watching Elizabeth take her turn at chasing Isaac. Since Derek has come into his life, pointing out all Elizabeth’s little differences from a normal three year old, Stiles sees the way she runs a little faster than most children, the way she stays coordinated, the way she stumbles but catches herself quickly. He notices that Elizabeth smells things he can’t ( _he smells like Derek._ ) and sees better than he does, probably. 

It makes Stiles love her even more, grow even more protective of her, because Elizabeth has all these traits, and it makes her a _target._ Though less of one with Derek in their lives now. 

“Daddy!” she shrieks, snapping him out of his reverie. “Daddy, come chase us!” Isaac has her lifted up over his head, her legs dangling over his shoulders, and Elizabeth grips his hair like it’s a mane. Stiles smiles.

“Well, what do I get if I catch you, pumpkin?” he asks, stepping off the porch. Elizabeth looks thoughtful.

“A kiss!” she shouts. 

“Not from _me,_ ” Isaac wrinkles his nose.

“And if I lose?” Stiles asks, stifling his laughter. 

“You can make dinner tomorrow, too!” Isaac says brightly, and Elizabeth cheers. 

“ _Spaghetti,_ ” she declares. Stiles shakes his head. 

“Okay, fine,” he says, and Isaac starts running, keeping a careful grip on Elizabeth. Elizabeth laughs, shrieks, and shouts for him to go faster as Stiles chases them around the yard. Stiles finally collapses in the grass behind the house, shouting, “I give up! I give up! You win,” and Isaac lopes back over to where Stiles is lying, dropping Elizabeth on Stiles’ stomach. Elizabeth tickles him once before jumping off and curling up next to him. 

“Angel clouds,” she points up to a cloud that does look suspiciously like it has wings. 

Isaac lies on Stiles’ other side, squinting up at the cloud Elizabeth pointed to. “What’re angel clouds?” he asks. 

“It’s Mommy watching over me and Daddy,” Elizabeth explains. “Pappy told me. Daddy’s mommy is in the clouds too.”

Stiles swallows back the lump of emotion in his throat. 

Isaac makes a noise suspiciously close to a whine and curls tighter around Stiles, burying his nose in Stiles’ shoulder. When Stiles looks down, there are tears brimming in Isaac’s eyes. “Sorry,” Isaac chokes. “I just – that’s really beautiful.”

Stiles just grins. “Comforting, huh?”

Isaac nods. They lay there. 

==

“Okay so not to burst the bubble of peace and happiness that has been us lately,” Stiles announces the next evening, coming through to the kitchen with bags of groceries for the dinner he’d promised Isaac and Elizabeth. “But I have to tell my Dad.”

“Stiles,” Derek growls. Stiles is starting to think it’s just the way he greets him. Like, every time Stiles appears in a room and says something, pretty much. “Why are you here?”

“Because I’m making spaghetti!” Stiles exclaims, and drops the bags on the counter. Derek sniffs, peers into a bag, and glances back to Stiles.

“Blueberry poptarts,” he points at the bag, glaring. 

“Special treat,” Stiles winks. 

“I hate you.”

“You don’t,” Stiles insists, “or you would have kicked me out by now.”

“I keep you around for Elizabeth,” Derek retorts, “and your cooking.” He jabs Stiles in the side as he passes, proving just how much he’s joking, and Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“Well without my cooking you’d be _wasting away._ ”

Derek frowns. “I managed before you.”

Stiles sniffs and tries not to look horrified. “And I have no idea how. But seriously, Derek. I have to tell my dad his favorite girl in the world is of the _supernatural._ ” 

Derek wrinkles his nose. “Your dad doesn’t like me  
.”  
“He barely knows you!” Stiles says, shifting to reach for a frying pan, to start making meatballs. “He just thinks I’m hanging around with a broody guy whose uncle and sister happened to suspiciously go missing at the same time. Which will, you know, be explained when I explain the whole _werewolf_ thing.”

“You’re still not telling Scott and Allison,” Derek says, and if Stiles didn’t know any better, he’d almost think it sounded like a singsong tone. 

“Fine,” Stiles huffs. “Lydia and Jackson are coming over.” 

Derek sighs. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. “Where’s Elizabeth?”

“Isaac and Boyd have her outside. She’s waiting for you. She wants to play _tag,_ ” Stiles wrinkles his nose. Derek beams at him. 

He pauses before he steps the whole way out of the kitchen, seeming to hesitate. “You uh – don’t need any help here?” He scratches the back of his head, his only nervous tic, Stiles has noticed.

“No, no,” Stiles waves a hand, “Leave me to make approximately four billion meatballs for seemingly starving werewolves while you go chase my daughter, I absolutely don’t mind.” Derek flashes a split-second grin. 

“Great,” he says, and disappears. 

“Ridiculous people,” Stiles mutters under his breath, “absolutely crazy, insane, nothing right in their _brains,_ I have no idea why I –” 

“Stiles, why are you talking to yourself?”

Lydia’s voice causes Stiles to jump about two feet, the frying pan clattering against the stove, as he turns around to face her. 

“You – you - _you,_ ” Stiles huffs, hand clutched to his heart in an overdramatic gesture. Lydia studies her nails. 

“Do you need help?” she asks, looking up. 

“Please,” Stiles allows himself to say, heartbeat returning to normal. She steps into the kitchen, starting to pull ingredients out of the grocery bags. 

They cook in silence for a while, until Lydia turns to Stiles. “You’ve been spending a lot of time here.”

“I know, what’s wrong with me?” Stiles retorts automatically. “I voluntarily spend time with a grumpy werewolf.” 

“You are _insane,_ ” Lydia says snippily, and pokes at the meatballs in the frying pan with a fork. 

Stiles replies, “I think that was implied when I asked what was wrong with me.”

Lydia shakes her head and doesn’t look at him for a while, before bursting into laughter, high and happy, a beautiful noise that Stiles loves to hear, even now, so many years after his high school infatuation with her. Her red hair bounces as she shakes her shoulders with laughter, and Stiles laughs with her for a moment. 

That’s how Derek, Isaac, Jackson, and Elizabeth find them, in the kitchen with dinner cooking, laughing. Derek arches a brow. Stiles thinks there’s something wrong with him when he can suddenly start reading Derek’s looks, knowing whether he’s asking a question, saying _you’re such an idiot,_ or demanding Stiles to answer a question just with the arch of a brow. 

“It’s just –” Stiles can’t stop laughing, and Lydia has started giggling hysterically at the look on all their friends faces, “Just, nothing,” he says, and Elizabeth runs into the kitchen and throws her arms around Stiles’ legs. 

“I like when you laugh, Daddy,” she mumbles into his jeans, and Stiles stops laughing, picking her up and giving her a big smile. 

“Me too, Pumpkin.”

Isaac says, “It sounds like cats were dying in here.” At that Lydia’s own giggles cut off, and she glares at Isaac. She points a finger at him before miming slitting his throat, and then turns back to the meatballs. There’s an amused look on Jackson’s face, and Isaac looks properly fearful at the warning. 

Derek shoves Isaac into the kitchen, and he stumbles for a moment, before he clears his throat and says, “Do you need help?” not at all sounding like he really wants to help. Stiles gives him a soft smile. 

“Set the table for me and you’re free,” he says. “You can even take Elizabeth back outside until I call for everyone.”

Isaac scrambles to grab the plates and utensils before hurrying into the dining room. Derek seats himself on the stool behind the counter, sets his chin in his hand, and watches them all move around the kitchen, Jackson helping Lydia make iced tea, Stiles breaking up the pasta to put in the boiling water. Stiles can hear Elizabeth in the dining room, talking to Isaac and helping him set the table. 

“Okay,” Derek rumbles. 

Stiles pausing in his pasta-stirring, turning halfway to look at Derek. “Okay… what?” Stiles asks uncertainly. 

“You can tell your dad. And we can _discuss_ talking to Scott and Allison about it.”

Stiles breathes out a breath filled with relief. He hadn’t even realized he’d been so worried about Derek denying letting him tell his father until just now. Now, he’s relieved, and he feels lighter, like something huge has been lifted off his chest. 

“Okay,” Stiles repeats, and the timer goes off for the pasta. 

==

“Well that went well,” Stiles collapses against the back of Derek’s couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Where’s Elizabeth?” Derek asks, coming into the living room, leaning against the arm of the couch, arms crossed.

“With my Dad,” Stiles sighs. “There was a lot of yelling and –” he waves a hand, “ _flailing._ He thought I was insane, but I brought Lydia as backup. Then he demanded to know what was going to happen to Elizabeth and how…” Stiles breaks off, swallowing, “if Erica’s death was related to the claws and the fur.”

Derek gives him a glare, his trademark _you are such an idiot_ glare, and blows out a sigh of his own. “So...?”

“So, now my dad knows werewolves exist. But he still thinks I’m insane because I let Elizabeth around them so much.”

“We’d never hurt her,” Derek wrinkles his nose and looks disgusted at the thought. “She’s _pack._ You’re pack.”

“By association, huh?” Stiles snorts, scrubbing at his face with his hands. 

“No,” Derek says slowly, “Stiles, it’s not just because you’re Elizabeth’s father.”

Stiles closes his eyes. “It’s been really hard to accept all this, Derek,” he says softly, “Erica, Elizabeth – even Jackson and Lydia. I just. I don’t know what to do with all the information. I don’t know what to do with the fact that my daughter is three but she’s a walking target for potentially psycho hunters.”

Derek shifts, and doesn’t say anything for a moment. He finally says, “If we follow the rules, the hunters don’t really come after us.”

Stiles pulls his hand away from his face and blinks at Derek. “ _That’s_ what you have to say? Wow, Derek; you’re so comforting. I always knew you had it in you.”

Derek huffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he tells Stiles, “it’s not like I _turned_ Elizabeth. The best thing I can do is be there when she grows up and teach her the rules and the way to live with her gift – and it _is_ a gift, Stiles. I know you might not think that now, but it is. Elizabeth has so much potential. She’ll be amazing when she grows and starts to change.” 

Stiles sighs, and sinks his head against the couch again, blinking back frustration. “I don’t think it’s a burden, Derek. I just think it’s _hard._ How are you going to explain all the stories you’ve been telling her are true?”

“Elizabeth is a smart girl, Stiles.”

“That doesn’t help anything unless that means she’ll realize it on her own before I have to sit down and have the ‘Honey-You’re-a-Born-Werewolf talk,’ with her.”

There’s a twitch at the corners of Derek’s lips, the signal he wants to _laugh_ at Stiles, and Stiles wants to punch him in the throat. Hard. He glares at Derek, and in return, Derek lets out a short laugh before covering his mouth and blinking, like he’s kind of surprised at himself. “Yes, laughing is illegal,” Stiles deadpans. “Don’t look so surprised at yourself, jeez.”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek tells him, and moves from leaning against the couch to sitting down on it next to Stiles. Stiles leans against Derek, resting his head on his shoulder. 

“Don’t tell Scott this, ever, but even though you suck at comforting me, you’re still better than him,” Stiles murmurs, eyes closed.

“There’s nothing to comfort,” Derek says softly, “everything’s going to be just fine, okay?”

“Sure,” Stiles sighs, and feels peaceful for the first time in a while, leaning back against Derek. 

==

Elizabeth starts preschool the next week and comes home from her first day in tears. Well, she comes to Derek’s house her first day in tears. Derek was the one who _insisted_ on picking her up after Stiles told him he’d be working a little later. Stiles is already at the house when Derek and Elizabeth get there, waiting on the porch. Elizabeth runs up and sobs, screaming, “I hate you! I want a mommy!” and stomps into the house. 

Stiles swallows, but his mouth is dry, and his heart is pounding in his chest. “Wow,” he says, “I wasn’t expecting that for a few more years.”

“Stiles,” Derek rumbles, stepping forward. Stiles can hear Elizabeth crying in Isaac’s arms, and Isaac holding her close. 

“No.” Stiles steps back. “I just need… to not… I need to go try and talk to her,” he finally finishes. 

“I can,” Derek offers, “if you need space. To breathe, or whatever. I’ll talk to her, and you can go visit Scott. I know you were planning to today.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yes. I’ll be back in an hour, okay?”

Derek leans forward and ruffles Stiles’ hair just like Stiles always does to Isaac, that same comforting gesture, before stepping into the house. Stiles palms his keys and moves to his car in a zone. He reaches Scott and Allison’s apartment and lets himself in, just as he’s always done, following the noise to the kitchen, yelling out his arrival.

Allison takes one look at him and stands up, wrapping her arms around his shaking frame. “What happened?” she asks him, guiding him to the kitchen table. 

“Elizabeth hates me,” Stiles says, all trembling voice. 

Scott says, “That’s insane.”

Stiles shakes his head. “No. She started preschool today and came home in tears, yelling about how she hated me. Derek had to go calm her down. I couldn’t even – I couldn’t even _face_ her; she just wants a mom. Jesus.” Stiles scrubs at his face. 

“Stiles, it’s not your fault Erica died,” Allison says, stroking his shoulder, still hugging him even though he’s sitting down. She towers over him, an insistent look on her face. “You’re doing the best you can under the circumstances.”

“I think the Stilinski name is cursed,” Stiles laughs to himself, “we’re destined to not have mothers.” 

Allison doesn’t even look a tiny bit amused at that, and neither does Scott. So Stiles closes his mouth and drops his head down onto the table. He groans loudly and decides to just stay there for the rest of his life, until Scott says, “Elizabeth _loves_ you, Stiles. Don’t mistake that, ever. She’s just upset.”

“Why’s she with Derek, anyway?” Allison chirps, causing Stiles to look back up at her. She looks thoughtful, eyes narrowed, like she has a hint of an idea in the back of her head, but she can’t quite grab onto it. “Why didn’t your dad take her? Where _were_ you?”

“We were at Derek’s,” Stiles shrugs.

“You’re there an awful lot,” Scott says, also looking somewhat thoughtful.

“No!” Stiles cries, “No, no, no, it is _not_ what you are thinking, guys! It’s… he’s just – he likes Elizabeth.”

Allison looks terrified until Stiles starts rapidly shaking his head, “That wasn’t what I meant! That was not what I meant! I meant – he’s _good_ with her, he treats her like… like his favorite niece or something.”

No one says anything for a moment. Finally Allison says, “If her treats her well… and you.”

“He better,” Scott growls, and if Stiles hadn’t been around so many werewolves lately, he’d think it sounded a little frightening, but Scott is just a tiny human surrounded by incredibly overprotective werewolves. 

Stiles desperately wants to tell them. 

He has his mouth open, ready to tell them, when his phone rings, Derek’s name flashing across the screen. Stiles presses the green button and holds it up to his ear, saying, “I’m never coming back, you can’t make me.”

Derek growls. “You’re being a drama queen.”

“My daughter _hates_ me,” Stiles says, and ignores how it sounds kind of dramatic even to his own ears. 

Behind him, Allison chuckles and says, “You’re so not ready for the teenage years yet.” Stiles flips her off.

“Stiles, it’s dinnertime and there’s nothing here; Elizabeth has a _very_ nice apology and explanation waiting for you.” Something in Derek’s tone sounds kind of threatening, like he might be looking straight at Elizabeth at the moment, just like Stiles does when he says ‘Elizabeth has a _room_ to clean,’ when Elizabeth wants the Sheriff to play tea party with her right before cleanup and bed time.

Stiles can see where Derek makes a good alpha, and where he’d be a good father. Something flutters in his heart. Stiles puts his chin in his hand and sighs. “Takeout okay? I don’t feel like cooking.”

Derek rumbles something close to a laugh. “We’ve lived without your cooking before, Stiles, we’ll manage for a night or two. Just get here, okay?”

Stiles realizes when Derek says that that he hasn’t eaten dinner with his dad since _four weeks ago._ He feels a little guilty until he remembers that he’s made something for his dad every night and stuck it in the fridge, and for the last week he’s been working hardcore overtime on an apparently big case. Not to mention last week when Stiles broke the ‘furry creature’ news to his dad, they’d had an awkward spell afterwards. But he still sees Elizabeth as much as he did before, and he wished her good luck this morning before preschool. 

Stiles sighs, “Okay, okay. Fine.” He presses the end button and stands up. 

“I have to go get dinner for Elizabeth and the p – Derek,” Stiles corrects himself. Allison looks at him strangely again and Stiles tries not to cringe under her gaze. He hugs them both and lets Allison walk him to the door. 

“Don’t worry about Elizabeth,” she says, kissing his cheek one more time. “And Stiles? Anytime you want to come out with the werewolf business, I’d be open to that.”

Stiles has his mouth open when Allison gently pushes him out the door and closes it. 

He stops and picks up a few pizzas before heading out to the Hale house, mind still reeling. He carries them inside and he’s just about to set them on the counter when Elizabeth comes running in, Derek slowly following behind her. Elizabeth throws her arms around his legs and starts sobbing again. “Daddy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she cries into his jeans, “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t want you to _go,_ ” she says. “I’m sorry!” Stiles picks her up and kisses her tears away, stroking her long blonde hair. 

“Pumpkin, it’s okay,” he murmurs against the top of her head. “I understand missing your mommy, baby.”

“’m sorry,” she mumbles into his shirt. “I don’t like preschool,” she continues, sniffling. “Everybody always talks about their mommies and how they do their hair and stuffs. You do good hair but Marnie had a _French braid,_ ” Elizabeth says this like it’s the coolest thing ever, and Stiles feels sad for a moment, but he understands. He does.

In school, everyone always talked about their moms cooking their dinner, packing their lunches for them, and waking them up for school. They talked about how their moms nagged them to get their homework finished and separate their lights and darks for the laundry. Stiles never really _had_ that. He cooked dinner. He did the laundry and woke himself up for school. 

So Stiles _gets_ it, and promises himself to do everything for Elizabeth that he can. He knows Elizabeth will never forget her mother and Stiles doesn’t _want_ her to. As she grows older he’ll tell her stories about Erica that he maybe can’t tell her now, but he’s holding them inside for later. 

He knows this is a milestone for them both, and there will be a lot more. 

“I’ll learn to French braid your hair, Pumpkin,” he whispers, and she sniffles, beams up at him, and sloppily kisses his cheek. 

“Love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too Elizabeth.”

Derek walks in and starts pulling plates down, opening the pizza boxes as he goes. Isaac and Boyd must smell it because the come down a few moments later, and Isaac pours Elizabeth milk before sitting down at the table and waiting for Derek to carry the pizza over. Stiles walks over and sits down next to Isaac. “Hard day, huh?” Isaac asks through a mouthful of cheese. 

“Wasn’t the greatest,” Stiles admits to him, still stroking Elizabeth’s hair. She’s chattering excitedly with Boyd about their next game of tag. 

Isaac is glancing back and forth between Derek and Stiles. When Derek disappears into the living room to turn the television off, Isaac leans close to him. “Derek is… he really loves her,” he whispers. 

“He’s good with her,” Stiles replies, and then asks, “Why are we whispering?”

Isaac sighs loudly. “Just be good to him, okay? He was a shitty alpha right after Laura died, but he couldn’t be blamed. He was always meant to be just a beta, and here he was taking over Laura’s role. He never expected it, or wanted it. But he’s a good alpha now, and a great friend. He’s the one that found me, you know?” Isaac picks at his slice of pizza, avoiding eye contact. “He found me and brought me to Laura. I had to… I had to tell Laura my story, and then she offered me the bite, and it was the best thing Derek ever did for me, bringing me to Laura. Giving me a _family._ ” 

Stiles sees then that Derek is gruff, yes. But he _cares_ for these people, even after all the things he’s lost. 

Derek sits down at the table then, two slices of pizza piled on his plate, and starts eating. Stiles waits for a huge bite before he says, “So I forgot to tell you: Allison knows you’re _all_ werewolves. Apparently she’s in the know about the werewolf hunting.”

Derek chokes. “You told her?” He glares. 

“ _No,_ ” Stiles snaps, “I was walking out the door and she said anytime I want to talk about the werewolf thing, she’d listen. I didn’t tell her anything.” He doesn’t mention the almost-slip-of-the-tongue part; it’s enough for Derek to blame him. 

“That’s great,” Derek sighs. 

“If it helps I don’t really think she was into the whole hunting down creatures of the night thing,” Stiles offers. 

Derek’s eyes flash. Stiles shrinks back a little. Elizabeth sits up from where she was snuggling with Stiles and reaches for her pizza, before looking back at Derek. 

She chirps, “Derek do you love Stiles?” before taking a bite. 

Stiles inhales. “ _Elizabeth,_ ” Stiles says, “that’s not – you don’t – he couldn’t…” Stiles breaks off with a sigh. 

Derek is staring at Elizabeth, stricken, and Isaac and Boyd have both stopped chewing, their pizza in midair. Elizabeth just stares with wide eyes back at Derek, waiting for him to talk, chewing on her pizza. “Um,” he finally says. 

“’Cause daddy loves you,” Elizabeth says when she swallows. “He says he takes care of you ‘cause he doesn’t know who else will.”

Stiles fingers tremble a little where they’re stroking back Elizabeth’s hair to keep food from getting in it. He stares down at the blonde strands running through his hair. “Elizabeth,” he mumbles. 

Derek looks awkward. Isaac is beaming, and Boyd just stares back and forth between the three of them. 

“And you say you love me,” Elizabeth points out to Derek, completely ignoring Stiles. Stiles thinks about just what kind of day this has been, and blows out a loud sigh. “So you have to love daddy too. We’re a…” she breaks off, trying to think of what Stiles always tells her, “A _package deal,_ ” she announces proudly, beaming again. 

Stiles feels like taping her mouth shut, and he’s never, ever felt like that before. He’s thinking about just how much he’ll pay someone to make his daughter shut up, stop talking about this. He closes his eyes and breathes deep, trying to ignore the stares all focused on him now. When he opens his eyes again, everyone is still staring at him. “Well,” he says weakly, “we _are_ a package deal.” He shrugs.

Derek clears his throat, and shifts uneasily in his chair. “You are,” he says kind of gruffly, like he’s not sure how to talk about his emotions, “and I love you both. I… love everyone here,” he kind of mumbles the last part, and Stiles’ heart flutters. 

“His heart grew three sizes bigger,” Stiles says dramatically, and Derek shoots him a nasty glare, while Isaac smothers his laughter. 

Elizabeth looks up at Stiles. “Tell him, Daddy, tell him!” 

Stiles sighs. “Pumpkin, that’s just for you and me –” 

“I want to share it with Derek,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “ _Tell him,_ ” and she tugs at Stiles shirt sleeve. 

Stiles flushes bright red and says quietly, “I love you up to the sky and back.”

“And,” Elizabeth singsongs. 

“I love you even when you make mistakes, I love you at your highest point,” Stiles finishes. 

Everyone is looking kind of awkward at this point, except for Elizabeth, who looks completely pleased with herself. “Okay, it’s time to go home,” Stiles announces quickly, standing up. Elizabeth flails with surprise in his arms. “Elizabeth has a bath to get, and bedtime.”

Elizabeth pouts. Stiles ignores it, saying, “Give everyone a kiss and tell them goodbye.”

He rushes into the kitchen, cleaning things up while Elizabeth talks to Isaac and Boyd. He’s scrubbing the counter furiously where a small drop of sauce had been spattered against it, when Derek steps into the kitchen. Stiles flushes, “Just – she’s got a lot of words, she can be very insistent. Dad says there’s no doubt she takes after me with the way she just says things without thinking, and –” Stiles flails, “it’s just a thing, okay? She’s big on everyone loving one another and she’s probably got some idea forming in her head that will never happen because you are – and I am –” Stiles stops talking and turns back around to scrub at the now invisible sauce splatter. 

Derek is staring at Stiles now. He leans in close and places his hands on Stiles’ shoulders to calm him down. 

“I meant it,” he says firmly, lowly, and then he disappears from the kitchen, yelling out a final goodbye to Elizabeth before going upstairs. 

Stiles exhales shakily.

==

“And I don’t know where that _leaves_ us!” Stiles shouts a little hysterically. Lydia flinches at the pitch of his voice, and Jackson rolls his eyes. 

“Where do you want it to leave you, Stiles?” Lydia huffs, standing up to make more hot chocolate. 

Elizabeth is at home with his dad, sleeping soundly in her bed, and as soon as Stiles got her tucked in for the night, he fled to Lydia’s to have his breakdown. He’s on the verge of an anxiety attack, hating himself for it, and also more than a little pleased – if confused – by Derek’s last words to him before leaving for the night. 

Stiles traces the grains of wood on the table and sighs. Jackson huffs. “You’re obviously made for each other. Somehow. He’s good with Elizabeth. She’s _pack,_ and so are you,” Jackson says.

“I’m not pack,” Stiles says automatically, “I’m not – furry.”

Lydia growls low in her throat at that, and Stiles automatically cries, “Sorry,” before something happens, like Lydia _accidentally_ spilling hot chocolate in his lap or something equally as painful. “I just meant – I’m not like you guys.”

Jackson shakes his head, rolling his eyes again. It’s been years since high school, but Jackson still pretty much treats Stiles the exact same way – like he’s always wondering just how stupid Stiles could be. 

Lydia turns back around, “You don’t have to be a wolf to be pack,” she tells him, “Jackson wasn’t a wolf until Derek killed Peter, but he was still _pack,_ because he was mine. Just like Elizabeth is a wolf, but you’re still pack because you’re hers, right now. But you’re also –” she snaps her mouth shut. 

“I’m also what?” Stiles has to ask then. 

Jackson sighs. “You’re also Derek’s,” he finishes for her. Lydia glares at him. 

“What do you mean?”

“Derek cares about you. Probably more than he cares for his betas – which is a _lot,_ ” Jackson explains, “you’re a good dad, a good caretaker, and I guess maybe Derek sees something in you.” Jackson wrinkles his nose like he couldn’t possibly see what that could be. 

“Wow,” Stiles says flatly, “thanks for all the confidence there, buddy.”

Lydia interrupts before they can reach a full blown snark-fest, and says, “Stiles, do you really love him?”

“I – I don’t really know him. I know about how he is with Elizabeth. I know he loves her, I know how he lost his family, but I don’t know the things that I _want_ to know about _him,_ ” Stiles says. 

“Well, you know how to fix that,” Lydia says, “you ask him out. The pack will keep Elizabeth tomorrow.”

“What?” Stiles yelps. 

Lydia eyes him. “Don’t pretend you know nothing. You obviously were charming enough to capture Erica’s attention.”

“I was a total _geek,_ ” Stiles replies, “She was charmed by my ability to trip over thin air and talk too much.”

“You still haven’t lost that ability,” Jackson says quickly. 

“Call him,” Lydia says, “Call him now.”

“I cannot – you are _insane_ ,” Stiles says. 

“Stiles, what are you so nervous about?” Lydia huffs. 

“I haven’t dated since Erica!” Stiles blurts out, like it’s a deep dark secret he’s finally confessing. 

“You – _no one?_ ” Jackson asks, looking horrified, “Not even to –” he breaks off and does an absolutely disgusting hand gesture that Stiles never wants to think about again. Stiles wrinkles his nose and Lydia slaps Jackson across the head, before turning back to Stiles. 

“No,” Stiles says slowly. 

“It’s okay,” Lydia coos, “it’s just like riding a bike.”

“I was never very good at riding a bike,” Stiles sighs. 

==

After he calls Derek and has a very, very awkward conversation about maybe meeting for dinner tomorrow, just the two of them, Stiles heads home, and falls into his bed. 

It’s not that he hasn’t wanted to date, he’s just never found the right person to waste the effort on. Erica was something he thought he had for good, and he hates thinking about having to find someone else. And he knows, deep down, that he’ll always love Erica, for the rest of his life, probably, but he knows he’s moved on, too. He can’t lie and say they were together for as many years as his parents had been when his mom died, and he thinks maybe that’s why it’s a little easier to move onto another phase of his life. _One with Derek,_ the back of his mind whispers, and he tries to push it away. 

He also knows, deep down, that he _does_ love Derek. He just doesn’t want to jump into anything, to end up having it be one sided. 

He closes his eyes and when he falls asleep, he dreams of Erica, who is laughing and telling him to get over himself, it’s okay to move on from her, to move into something new. 

==

“Hey,” Stiles greets Derek as he comes to his table at the diner, getting up from his seat. 

“Hey,” Derek mumbles, sliding into the booth across the table. Stiles sits back down. 

There’s an awkward moment of silence before Stiles clears his throat. “So… how are you?”

“Fine,” Derek responds immediately. Then, “How are you?”

“Nervous,” Stiles blurts, covering his mouth right after. “Sorry. I’m – fine.”

“And nervous,” there’s a quirk of Derek’s lips at this, and his eyes sparkle. 

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” Stiles admits. 

“Me neither,” Derek replies. “I – want to, though,” he finally says, sounding more than emotionally stunted. Stiles grins. 

“Great.” 

And it is great, once they get past the initial awkwardness. They talk about things they’ve never discussed before – Stiles’ childhood, Derek’s childhood, their days in high school, their favorite colors, music, movies, and food. They talk about Derek’s sister, and about how Laura was always the leader, how she primed Derek into the guy he is today (with a little less broodiness when Laura was there), and Stiles talks about his dad, how he’s always been the one person Stiles has looked up to in his life. They talk about the bittersweet things, too; they share their memories of Erica, and Derek tells stories about Laura being the alpha of such a ragtag little pack, pulling them together to be one _family._

They spend hours in the diner, until it’s almost closing time, and then Derek walks Stiles back to his car. 

“So,” Stiles says, “that was good. It was good, right?”

“It was good,” Derek says, and for the first time since Stiles met him, Derek smiles, without Elizabeth being near to bring it on. Stiles has always gotten little half-smiles, but he’s never gotten a full-on smile, so bright and gorgeous and perfect. 

“We – I want to keep doing this. Dating.” Stiles says, unsure. “The thing is, it was true – what Elizabeth asked me to tell you. But that doesn’t change the fact that – that I still don’t know some things about you. And I want to get to know you – not just jump into it.”

Derek leans forward, pressing his forehead against Stiles, looking into his eyes, and then he leans closer, until they’re sharing breaths. Stiles inhales sharply, heart speeding up a little. And then, Derek brushes his lips against Stiles’ kisses him long and deep, just perfect, Stiles swears. When he pulls away, Stiles says, “Oh.”

“I want to, too,” Derek says, “I – I think I was really stupid, when I told Erica that you couldn’t be with a human. Because – the thing is. It _grounds_ you,” Derek says, looking uncomfortable for a moment. “It makes… it makes you feel more human, less animal. That’s what Erica was looking for. And I – I’m sorry I ever pushed her away because it’s my fault she died, and I just –” 

Stiles is already shaking his head. “She went looking for Peter, Derek, she would’ve done it whether you’d let her stay or not. You did what you thought was best. But I’m glad you’re coming around to the idea.” He strokes Derek’s cheek. 

“More than,” Derek says, and kisses him again.

**Epilogue**

“Elizabeth don’t you _dare_ climb that tree!” Stiles shouts, bringing the burgers out to hand to Derek.

“She’s fine,” Derek rumbles, smiling at him. 

“She is not fine,” Stiles huffs, “she’s going to fall and break a limb, or two, or ten.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Elizabeth, come down please,” he calls for Stiles, and Elizabeth scrambles down the tree. 

Isaac runs out into the backyard, Boyd, Lydia, Jackson, Scott and Allison following behind him at a slower pace. They’re all carrying things to set on the patio table, and they pile them on. Elizabeth squeals, “Chase me Uncle Isaac!” and they’re off, running. 

“I can’t believe she’s _six_ ,” Stiles says somewhat wistfully. His dad comes around the house then, carrying a huge box, wrapped up kind of sloppily. “Oh, God, what did you _get_ her?” Stiles asks, horrified. 

The Sheriff just beams at him, doesn’t even have the nerve to look guilty. 

“It’s going to make _noise,_ ” Stiles sighs, “so much noise.” Derek pokes him in the side. 

“Please hand me the hot dogs,” he says, pointing at the package Stiles is still gripping in his hands. “And stop worrying about it. They’re her birthday presents, Stiles.” 

“Six years old,” Stiles says again, the same way he’s been saying it all day. He can see Derek trying to refrain from laughing at him. “How did this happen?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious, Stiles,” he replies, finally giving in and rolling his eyes. 

“Daddy! Papa! Daddy!” Elizabeth cries, “Look at me!” They look over, and Elizabeth is doing a hand stand, staring at them from down on the ground, her blonde hair dragging through the grass. 

“She’s going to be such a mess,” Stiles says sadly. 

“Because it’s _your_ turn to bath her,” Derek grins. 

Stiles slaps at his arm. 

It took a while. It took a long while, even, Stiles thinks, to get to the point where they’re at now, three years later. There were rough patches, because as much as he hates to admit it, he and Derek are pretty emotionally stunted. There were times when Stiles went crazy because of Derek – there are _still_ times like that, but they’re in a good place now, a happy place. Elizabeth has two parents, Stiles learned to French braid, and Derek learned to talk a little more, let his smiles go a little freer. 

And the pack came together, even more than before, Allison and Scott included this time around. None of them will ever forget Erica, or Laura, but they’ll always be happy that they continued their lives, and Stiles knows Erica would be happy for him, too. 

Stiles loves his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Minor Character Death tag is for Erica Reyes, who was married to Stiles and died in an 'animal attack.'


End file.
